


the best ex-lover of your life

by urbanlegendary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, judit being kind of the worst and crowley being kind of okay with it, lots of texts and letters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanlegendary/pseuds/urbanlegendary
Summary: Judit decides to have Crowley's coat repaired. It's a bad idea.
Relationships: Judit Marianne (original character)/Crowley (Supernatural)





	the best ex-lover of your life

**Author's Note:**

> A very, VERY long in the making work for my dear friend Seraph. I sincerely hope it's everything you wanted, thank you so much for being so patient with me.

_[I'm gonna come pick up my coat tomorrow. Probs afternoon.]_

It felt surreal to Judit that the last text message Crowley had ever left on his phone was something so mundane. He'd never returned for the coat, and each time Judit read the message, he felt strangely as if Crowley was about to follow it up, or even walk through his door, absurd as the concept was.The typing bar blinked underneath it, giving him anxiety even though there was no chance of Crowley responding. (There really wasn't. He wouldn't be that self-destructive, Judit promised himself, although it only felt sillier the more he tried to do it.) He considered crumpling up the note ( _note, not letter,_ he wasn't invested enough to deliver a _letter_ by hand) neatly tucked in the breast pocket of Crowley's coat. It was brief and to the point, completely impersonal, nothing to have a crisis about.

It was sealed with wax. Judit comforted himself with the knowledge that he hadn’t bothered to use any kind of special seal, as if it legitimized what he was doing outside the boundaries of “a horrible mistake”.

He knocked on the hotel room's door. He hadn't needed to send any kind of note, but he clung to a sense of old-fashioned politeness that had somehow never mattered to him until now, or at least told himself that was what he was doing. Though he knew whose door he was knocking on (and had, in fact, been hoping that Crowley wouldn't be around to answer it), it still felt like an unpleasant surprise when Sam opened the door. In other circumstances, he would have attempted to put on an air of mysterious approachability for Sam, whom he had been deeply fond of in certain moments of weakness, but this was a moment of weakness that he would really prefer Sam didn’t witness.

"Oh..." The drawn-out silence was infuriating as Sam Winchester stared at the addressed letter and the package it was attached to. "Tell me you and Crowley are still done with each other, Jesus Christ. I don't want to deal with the consequences otherwise."

"Absolutely. Things are just as I left them the last time," Judit said, unconsciously pinching the corner of the note so hard it wrinkled and tore. The movement drew Sam's eyes to the coat and the envelope, and he sighed, extending a hand.

"I don't believe you, but I'll give him the thing, alright? Just get lost before he comes back, for everyone’s sake."

Judit did.

...

_Crowley,_

_I took the liberty of having this coat repaired by a witch I'm on good terms with, due to the fact that its destruction was largely my own fault. Attached is their card. They refused to allow me to pay the fee for repair, as the coat is your property, so you may expect to have a very reasonable and non-detrimental price asked of you. I can ensure it won't be anything so dramatic as a first-born child, and of course... your soul is already off the table, as we both know._

_As for how you will know if the witch contacts you prior to you reaching out: I have been informed that you just will. I'm sure you will. This witch is a good, reliable person._

_I'm sure I needn't remind you not to expect any similar favors from me after this one. Common courtesy required it, and, well, you couldn't possibly have expected me to repair it in a common way, having known me all this time._

_Regards,_

_Judit Marianne_

_..._

Crowley looked like his soul had left his body, which Sam supposed it had, but this was new.

He briefly considered asking Crowley if the vampire's reassurance that they weren't together anymore was accurate, but the possible ensuing conversation in the case that he said _no_ sounded too headache-inducing to be worth it. Having dropped off the coat, he sighed wordlessly and turned towards the kitchen, no particular object in mind but avoiding Crowley until his Judit-induced dissociative malaise had worn off.

“Sam,” he heard faintly, and gritted his teeth as he realized he’d stood still for too long to pretend he hadn’t heard it.

“What’s up?”

“Have you…” His sentence trailed off for so long that Sam felt the stirrings of potential freedom again, but then Crowley sat up from where he’d been draped over the couch like a fainting Victorian lady for the past several hours. “When’s the last time you heard from the vampire?” 

Sam briefly considered pretending Crowley was talking about a wholly different vampire, perhaps the one Dean was in the process of gathering information about at the moment, but the sleazy, bloodsucking elephant in the room loomed too large, and Crowley certainly knew he didn’t need to clarify his name.

“Couple weeks ago. We had him translate some shit for us as payment for sticking our noses into his vampire matriarch mess. It wasn’t a big deal, Dean and I just went to his apartment and had him look over a couple of books.”

“A couple of…” Crowley looked like he was about to be upset and then seemed to think better of it, probably realizing how hideously uncomfortable it would have been if Sam had given him a heads up about that meeting.

“Listen,” Sam said, keeping his focus on the blessed end of this conversation. “I know you hate him… kind of. I know things are weird. But we can’t in good conscience just ditch either of you right now, and you’re going to run into him again at some point if you stay on with us. Think of it like a work environment, okay?”

There was no answer from Crowley, who’d returned to his fainting position. Sam chose to behave as if he’d taken it to heart. No sense in spending the time leading up to that next inevitable encounter in a constant fog of dread.

...

[The fuck is wrong with you?]

Crowley didn't think too hard before sending the message, knowing from experience that there was no effective _and_ gentle way to inform Judit he was acting like a selfish ass. He would have been upset but accepting had Judit simply broken up with him permanently like a normal person, and he would have been guiltily relieved had Judit simply expressed a desire to reconnect - but he couldn't imagine that such an old being genuinely felt it was appropriate to go to such lengths as having his ex's coat repaired by a witch and telling him about it with a wax-sealed letter.

He wasn't expecting to get a response, but his phone buzzed alarmingly quickly, and then _again_ as Crowley felt the facade of bland domestic life he'd been carefully maintaining start to disintegrate around him.

_[You've always been unreasonable. I simply felt it was my obligation as a good friend to have your clothing repaired, especially considering that the circumstances under which it was damaged were my fault.]_

_[I was assured by my contact that you'd have no trouble paying the asked price. There is no reason for me to doubt their integrity, nor their ability to contact you successfully.]_

[That's not the fucking point. The point is you shouldn't have done it.]

_[What should I not have done?]_

_[Should I not have been decent towards you? Should I not have repaid my damages?]_

[Stop double texting.]

_[There's no need for you to criticize the way I communicate. I simply wished to return the coat to you in better condition than when you left it with me, and I have done so. You're the one that texted me afterwards.]_

[You wrote me a letter on fancy-ass paper with a wax seal! And you shouldn't be making purchases from witches on my behalf without asking.]

The texting bubble appeared, and didn't disappear for an alarmingly long time. Crowley took the opportunity to turn his phone off.

...

Judit did feel guilty, and terribly so, but he took comfort in the knowledge that admitting so wouldn't get him anywhere useful with Crowley. Which wasn't to say that he _wanted_ to get anywhere useful with Crowley, only that... well, perhaps he did, occasionally. But that didn't mean he would act on such impulses. He knew where his heart lay, and he knew there was nothing he could give that would truly make himself or Crowley happy.

 _So you jumped through all those hoops just to return a stupid coat he wasn't even upset over anymore,_ a little voice hissed inside his head. Although Crowley _had_ been distraught at the time, Judit had relied on the... special circumstances under which it had been damaged to get him off the hook. He'd insisted to himself that, since he wasn't in a proper relationship with Crowley, there was no need to buy a replacement, and now, well over a year after insinuating what _could_ have been seen as a breakup if one squinted and ceasing to contact Crowley, he'd somehow justified this obscure and complex alternative instead.

“…Sir?” Questions the waiter who seems as if they’ve been trying to get his attention for several seconds. Judit looks up from his glass of, depressingly, water. He’d meant to order something else… eventually, but instead, he’d been staring at his phone – more specifically, at Crowley’s number on his phone.

“Oh. I’m just about to head out the door, sorry, thank you.” He says as he ducks out of the booth, honed in on the promise of fresh air and something, anything else to think about. 

He only slows down once the bus station is in sight, slumping on the bench and closing his eyes briefly. He feels as if some sort of response on his part is inevitable, regardless of whether or not his rational mind thinks it’s a good idea. He did, after all, kick off this round of strangeness between the two of them with the coat incident, but admittedly, Judit was expecting the brash teasing and careless attitude he’s come to expect from Crowley, not such an intensely hurt-seeming reaction. He’s got no right to criticize that reaction, and the knowledge turns to ash in his mouth as the bus pulls up.

…

_Crowley,_

_I doubt you’ll read this. I suppose you’ll rip it up or have some similar reaction, and I can’t say I’d blame you one bit._

_Apologizing and… vulnerability, that sort of thing, has never been our style. “Our style”, I say, as if you’re likely to consider us a unit to whom things may belong._

_Can I tell you I’m going to give you what you want? Can I even presume to know what you want? No, of course not. I went to such trouble to get a reaction out of you for entirely selfish reasons, but surely you know that. Will it make you feel any better at all to know you do hold a particular, if amorphous and strange, place in my life, that I wouldn’t have done such a thing after any old dalliance?_

_There are some people who, even if I couldn’t possibly bring myself to have what could be termed a “relationship” with them, seem to keep me tethered to the world no matter how long I live, no matter how dull and meaningless it all begins to seem with the passage of time. I hope you’ll read past the trappings of a stereotypical “it’s not you, it’s me” message and really try to understand what I’m telling you, not that it’s something I have any right to demand. We have our comforting routine of sniping at each other and pretending we haven’t revealed as much of ourselves as we really have, and something in me seemed to come loose when you responded to my last note with sincere anger, like a stalk of wheat being pulled out of a bundle and dragging the others around it down as well, loosening the integrity of the whole structure._

_I think what I want from you - what I feel I could perhaps reasonably ask of you, no matter what else I may want - is for you to remain yourself. To know you exist in the world with me and to be able to comfortably remember you, to think of you and know I have an accurate image of you in my mind - you’ve been one of many small anchors to the world, and I do not mean that to be demeaning in the slightest, my dear Crowley._

_I do miss you terribly, but rage away and avoid me if you feel you must; it is entirely justified._

_Yours in a certain sense,_

_Judit Marianne_

…

_Judit._

_I fucking hate you, but it sounds like you don’t mind that. Or do you? You can’t decide if you want to be sensitive and mopey or your usual flighty bastard self and it drives me up the wall. Not in a good way. Not in the sense of having our little routine, as you said._

_I don’t completely hate you, any more than you want to have a relationship with me. I’ve asked you for more than I knew you could give, but that’s in the past. This, right now, this is all you. You knew I didn’t give a damn anymore about the coat. What pisses me off the most is that I’m pretty sure you do have good connections and that I won’t have any difficulty finding the witch, or being found by them. Certainly you’ve let me down before, but always in long-term ways. You come through in the small things so you can posture and claim you’re just doing your best, but for however long you’ve lived, you do a piss-poor job of maintaining things long-term._

_I almost want to go back to our old routines as well, but you know we can’t._

_Crowley_

_…_

Judit was almost ashamed of the relief he’d felt when he held the envelope in his hands and noticed who it was from, and it did not dissipate once he’d read the contents - he hadn’t truly expected this. He told himself not to read anything into it that Crowley had not said, but he couldn’t help feeling like even an angry note criticizing his behavior took more effort than he’d assumed Crowley was willing to spend on his behalf. 

It was written on a sheet torn out of a yellow legal pad, in hasty ballpoint pen that had been scribbled back over when the ink failed to press onto the paper. He found himself touching the thumb-shaped tea stain as if it had been left on purpose for him, but quickly stuffed the note back into the envelope and stashing it away in a desk drawer. 

…

Crowley’s hand brushed against someone else’s as he reached for the gas station earbuds, having left his own on the bus. It certainly wasn’t a romantic hand touch, but the significance resonated deep in the hollow where his soul would have fit, and he looked up, startled, to see the person _wearing his earbuds_.

The witch smiled, absent any of the simmering annoyance that Crowley felt. 

“Why d’you need so many pairs of earbuds if you took mine?” He asked gruffly, feeling relieved despite himself to have finally met them. 

“I put different enchantments on them.” They said breezily, pocketing the pair they’d grabbed. Crowley suspected they wouldn’t pay for it.”I hope you weren’t too bothered by all the coat business, you know - your vampire boy sure seemed like he was having a time of it.”

“ **_My-_ **”

His protest died in his mouth as he realized they were gone, the door of the gas station swinging slowly in their absence. Crowley decided he’d find himself a nicer pair of earbuds somewhere else - he didn’t want to be reminded ot Judit’s influence on his life by the tinny rattle of the cheap gas station sort.

After all, he’d have to deal with Judit quite enough once he reached his destination.

…

_Judit,_

_Listen, I know how this is gonna sound after my last letter. I know I’m pretty much playing into your hands by not sticking to my guns._

_But your witch friend did follow through, and I’ve been thinking. Even if we never have anything between us again, I don’t have a lot of acquaintances who aren’t the Winchesters and don’t have much of a dog in the fight between Heaven and Hell. Despite your undeath, despite everything, we bicker about coat repairs and witches and sex and past lovers, and your whole Lilith mess isn’t my mess._

_At any rate, I need to be in your area soon. Sam and Dean have caught wind of some other vampire who’s fucking a bunch of humans’ shit up, and I guess I’ll be tagging along with them until further notice._

_I want to see you, but I’ll try not to unless you respond to me._

_Crowley._

Judit, for all his confidence that Crowley would still be there no matter how many scuffles the two of them had, couldn’t quite bring himself to put the note down, feeling like it would disappear if he did. In his other hand he scrabbled for a pen in his desk drawer. Crowley had never been one to joke about such things, and if Judit’s previous experience with him was anything to go by, he would be seeing him in person soon.

…

[Judit, you need to tell me you’re not completely fucking Crowley over. He’s been on cloud nine since we left your place, and I know that’s usually a bad sign in the long run.]

Judit stared at the message from Dean, knowing that he wouldn’t have reached out if it wasn’t crucially important, utterly lost as to how to respond. He was completely fucking Crowley over, and something deep in his ancient mind brought that instinctive knowledge to the surface with clockwork regularity, as if it were a thudding vital organ. But he felt on some level as if he had reached further than ever before into his relationship with Crowley over the past few days, punched through the veneer of snarky insincerity like scissors through paper and continued reaching further and further into something substantial. It wasn’t love, at least not romantic love, and he didn’t believe Crowley would live out the rest of his long days without blowing up in anger at him again - likely several times.

_[I don’t want to be. I am doing my best.]_

There was no response, which from Dean was a positive response. His phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Crowley.

[Hey, you left your fucking coat in the car.]

Judit felt the bloom of interaction, of _change_ \- the best feeling he had ever encountered in his undeath - extend itself around the deep-set knowledge of insincerity in his chest, and he began to type.


End file.
